


What's In A Name

by always



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dadfoot, moomy, parenting is weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 17:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14337831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/always/pseuds/always
Summary: No one bothered to correct Harry when he started calling Remus "Moomy" and Sirius "Dadfoot", so that's what they became. But when Harry heads off to Hogwarts, he realizes that not everyone's family works like his does.





	What's In A Name

Sirius and Remus collapse onto the couch in a pile of exhausted limbs an weary groans. Two pacifiers dangle from one of Sirius' limp fingers, and Remus has suspicious-looking stains on the front of his jumper, but both are beyond caring in that moment. It's been three months since James and Lily died, and poor Harry still hasn't adjusted to them being nowhere to be found. No matter how hard he cries "Mama", or yells for "Da", neither come. 

At the moment, the toddler is curled up in a pile of laundry that Remus was sorting through to be washed and donated. It's a mixture of James and Lily's clothing that had been salvaged from the house, and Remus has been struggling to go through it through the haze of tears that inevitably cloud his vision when he tries. The clothes have been there for probably two weeks, and it is the only place Harry will sleep anymore, no matter how hard the two men try to get him to sleep in his cot. Sirius had suggested that they just toss the laundry into the cot and have Harry sleep on it in there, but Remus, horrified, yanked a book from the pile next to their bed and flipped through it before landing on the page he wanted and shoved it under Sirius' nose. 

"You can't do that, Padfoot! Look! If you put him to bed with anything, he could suffocate himself!"

That had shocked Sirius into silence, eyes widened in horror at the thought of losing their last living link to their best friends. After, though, when his brain wasn't so muddled, he pointed out to Remus that it wasn't any better having the boy sleep in a literal pile of fabric. But, for the moment, Harry was dozing peacefully amidst his parents' clothing, and both men had decided to make camp in their living room, and a semi-permanent pile of pillows and blankets was tossed haphazardly on the couch. 

It takes another three weeks before Harry will finally nap in his cot, and only then with a shirt from each parent tucked close (Remus spends the first five nights creeping into the spare room/nursery several times throughout the night to make sure the clothing hasn't come up around Harry's face). Eventually, even though the smells from his parents has faded, the shirts are still pulled around the house, used as security loveies, never far from the toddler's hands. Remus is mildly disgusted as they begin to collect grime, because the boy won't allow them to take the shirts to wash (neither adult seems to remember that they're wizards and could cast a Scourgify on the damn things while Harry sleeps). 

Another month passes, and Harry has stopped calling for his parents and looking for them any time the front door opens. Then, one evening, while Sirius and Remus are sprawled on the floor of the living room as Harry toddles between the two, using their bodies as a race track for his dragon stuffed animal, Sirius turns his head and looks at Remus through hooded, tired eyes, and he sighs sadly, "He's stopped asking for them," the dark haired man pauses to grimace as the dragon makes a particularly hard landing on his groin. "Is he forgetting them? I don't want him to forget his parents, Moony."

The werewolf turns his head to look over at him, and he smiles a little, sadness twisting a little, "Dunno, Padfoot. We can do our damnedest, though, to make sure he never forgets. Hell, we've got Merlin knows how many photos of them, and I'm sure if we owled some of the others, they'd send us some, too." One hand lifting, he tugs gently on Harry's dark hair, marveling at how it has grown in the past five months. Already, his hair is showing signs of being unruly. 

The pair lapse back into silence as they watch Harry move on from racing his dragon to pushing around the rouge quaffle Sirius had been rolling to him earlier in the day. 

By the time Harry turns two, he has begun using "Padfoot" and "Moony" to identify his pseudo-uncles. But, with his toddler lisp, the names sound more like "Dadfoot" and "Moomy." Neither man misses that the new names they've been saddled with are almost uncomfortably close to "Dad" and "Mommy", but neither has the heart to try and correct Harry's pronunciation. 

As he grows, the names become second nature to Harry, and Sirius and Remus adjust to answering to their new monikers. And when Harry is ready for Hogwarts, he meets new friends who, of course, ask about his family. Harry proudly tells them that he lives with his "Dadfoot and Moomy," and that they're the *best*. The other children are confused at first, and one girl, by the name of Hermione Granger, declares that, "Those aren't real names!"

Harry, green eyes flashing, puffs out his thin chest and, voice steady and loud, tells the bushy haired girl, "Of course they are. It's what I call them. They're my uncles and I've always called them that!" But now, as it happens with all children, he begins to doubt himself. He stews on Hermione's words through the Sorting ceremony. He worries on it through his first week of lessons, and when his new best friend, Ronald Weasley finally gets irritated because Harry's lost them yet another five points from Gryffindor, Harry finally screws up his courage to owl home. 

He pours his heart out in the letter he sends to Sirius and Remus, and when the men read through it, their hearts hurt a little. Remus sends Dumbledore an owl immediately, and the Headmaster offers to have them come to Hogwarts so they can speak to Harry in person. The men jump at the offer, and it is arranged that they will come for the first Quidditch game of the season. Harry is thrilled with the news, and anxiously counts down the days until the match. Ron is thankful that he has so many siblings, because he's able to turn Harry out when he gets begins to prattle on about his uncles. It isn't that he doesn't like hearing about the infamous exploits and adventures of Harry's guardians, it's just that Harry obviously has his favorites and tends to repeat the same story time and again. So, by the day the first match dawns, Ronald is almost able to quote Harry's tales verbatim. Harry does not find him amusing. But both boys rush through their breakfast before tumbling like puppies over their own legs out of the Great Hall and to the Headmaster's office, where Remus and Sirius are to arrive via floo. When the boys are finally called into Dumbledore's office, Harry is nearly vibrating in his excitement, and the moment his eyes clap onto his uncles, he rushes to them and launches into a double hug. The men wrap tight arms around the boy, grinning at each other over his dark head. 

"Hullo, Da--Sirius," Harry mumbles as he's released and he steps back. His words cause Sirius narrow his eyes a little, the frown only deepens as Harry speaks again, "Morning, Remus. It's good to see you guys."

Remus merely arches an eyebrow and ruffles Harry's hair gently before taking a seat in one of the chairs Dumbledore had motioned them to. He says nothing, knowing damn well Sirius will want to take the forefront on this one. As he settles himself in, he takes a tea cup from the tray Dumbledore had had one of the house elves deliver to the desk. The Headmaster had quietly ushered Ron from the room with the promise that his friend and his uncles would meet him at the match, and then the old man had left as well. The door had barely closed before Sirius had zeroed in on his godson, arms folding over his chest, leather jacket straining a little across his shoulders. 

"What's with the 'Sirius' and 'Remus' bit, Pup? Since when do you call us that?" he spoke quietly, but his voice was stern. "You hop off to Hogwarts and suddenly you're too old to call us what you've been calling us since you were a baby?" As Harry averts his eyes and shuffles his feet a little, Sirius' heart twinges, and drops into the next beside Remus, motioning for Harry to sit, as well. Sighing quietly, he leans forward, elbows on his knees. "What happened, pup?"

The whole story tumbles out in typical eleven-year-old fashion; a jumble of emotions and backtracking. As they listen, Remus and Sirius nod and hum. Harry finishes his explanation, head hanging with his chin nearly to his chest as he mumbles, "Hermione said I can't call you Dadfoot and Moomy because they're not 'real names', and you're not my mum or dad, so I can't use Dad..." He's eleven and refuses to cry, though it's a close thing because he's frustrated and confused and he hates it.

"Oh, Harry," Remus is the first to slide to the floor to take hold of Harry's hands that are tangled in his robes in his lap. Unwinding the material from Harry's hands, he squeezes gently, "We're not your mum and dad. And you know full well we would never want to take over being your mum and dad. We're your uncles, Sirius is your godfather. You can call us whatever you want. Whether you call us Dadfoot and Moomy, or Sirius and Remus, or Uncle, or whatever, none of that will change." Smiling gently, he lifts a hand and knocks his index finger against Harry's chin to make the boy lift his head. "I'm sure Sirius over there would even answer to Puppy, at this point."

The scoff from the chair behind Remus is such a typical Sirius noise that Harry smiles, attention shifting to the animagus, who sits forward and points a finger at Harry, "Call me 'puppy', and I'll make sure your birthday presents somehow wind up sent to St. Mungo's children's ward." He smirks a little at the wide-eyed look of panic on his godson's face. "But look, okay? I'm Dadfoot. I've been Dadfoot for nine years, and if you start calling me Sirius, I may forget that I'm supposed to be someone's guardian, okay?" Harry nods silently, his lips pressed into a tight line to keep from laughing. "Now, we've got a Quidditch match to get to. Let's go, Pup." The older man stands, rolling his shoulders and holding a hand out for Remus to grip as the werewolf straightens to a stand. Their fingers lace together and Remus gives Sirius' hand a squeeze, smiling fondly at him. Harry bounds to his feet and begins chattering about Gryffindor's lineup and each player's skill on the field, as they head out of the office.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this facebook post  
> https://www.facebook.com/OpenAtTheCloseUSA/posts/608518162875112  
> Which came from this artist's Tumblr page  
> http://wingedcorgi.tumblr.com/post/164943208186/a-bit-more-of-that-dogfather-sirius-nonsense


End file.
